Tequila
by Revhead
Summary: Set after (and before) 1x14 Nightmare. Sam has no idea how close they came to having Max's childhood. But Dean would never let anything happen to his little brother, even if it means he has to stand up to his Dad. A Wee!Chester fic. Warnings for alcohol abuse and slight John-bashing, but this is not a child-abuse fic.


**Tequila**

_Alternate Ending to S01xE14 Nightmare_

"Well, things could have gone a whole other way after mom," Sam reflected. "A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting – we would have had Max's childhood."

A shadow passed over Dean's face, so quickly that Sam almost missed it.

"I would never have let that happen," he said. There was a deadly resolve in his eyes, and Sam had the uneasy feeling that his brother was not talking hypothetically.

"Dean? What haven't you told me?"

The darkness cleared, and Dean seemed to realise he had said something he hadn't meant to. He tried to cover. "Nothing, it doesn't matter. Can we just get the hell out of here? This place is giving me the creeps."

But Sam had never been one to let something go that easily. "Dean."

"Forget it. It's no big deal." Dean tugged open the door of the Impala and slipped into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. It was the Winchester way of declaring a conversation over; if the talk started outside, it ended inside, and vice versa.

But Sam had been effectively distracted from thoughts of visions, telekinesis and nursery fires. Dean was hiding something, and he was going to find out what it was.

Sam folded himself into the car, and broke the unspoken laws between them by continuing the conversation where Dean had left off. "Then you shouldn't have any problem telling me. Now spill."

"No, Sam, you were right. He wasn't perfect, but we're lucky we had Dad. Let's leave it at that."

It was not a cold night, but Sam shivered. "Did… did something happen?"

"No."

"Dean."

"Dammit, Sammy! Dad's gone. Can't we leave him be? I'm not going to dishonour his memory by bringing up stuff long buried."

Sam felt anger bubbling up within him. "If he hurt you-"

"He didn't mean to!" Dean blurted.

Sam gaped at him.

"Crap," Dean muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

"Just tell me," Sam said quietly.

Dean turned away, staring out the window to avoid Sam's gaze. But, eventually, he spoke. "You were only four at the time, so I'm not surprised you don't remember…"

ooOOoo 

_1987_

"Again, again!" Sammy said, bouncing in his excitement and causing the rickety old motel bed to creak in protest.

Dean set the picture book on the bedside table, out of Sam's reach. "I read it twice already. It's bedtime."

Sammy gazed up at his brother with wide, pleading eyes. "But it's my favourite."

"So I'll read it again tomorrow. Not tonight."

The patented pout came out to play, Sammy's bottom lip trembling for all it was worth. It worked on almost everyone, but Dean was swiftly growing immune to it.

"_No,_ Sam." If Dad came home and found Sammy still awake they would both be in big trouble. He should have known better than to read a book filled with knights and dragons to his excitable little brother right before bedtime. "How 'bout I sing to you instead?"

Sammy's face lit up.

"Just one song, mind you," Dean added quickly. "Then you go straight to sleep, no arguments."

"Okay!" Sammy chirped, snuggling deeper into his blankets and closing his eyes.

If any of the boys at school heard about this, Dean would never live it down. But it was the only way to get Sam to settle and Dean secretly enjoyed singing the lullaby, not that he'd ever admit it. He just wished he could remember all of the words.

He sung softly. _"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and hum-hm better…"_

Sam gave a contented little sigh. He never did seem to mind that words were missing, or that Dean didn't have a nice voice like their mom had. Dean wondered if some part of Sam remembered this same song being sung to him in his crib, and that's why it always calmed him down. All he knew for certain was that 'Hey Jude' never failed to put Sammy to sleep. Dean didn't dare use the song when Dad was around, though, because it made him cry, and Dean didn't want to make him cry.

For now, at least, Sammy's breathing slowly evened out as sleep claimed him.

"…_then you'll begin to make it better," _Dean murmured, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Sammy's forehead. "G'night, little brother."

He padded out into the run-down kitchen, planning to wash their dishes from dinner before heading to bed himself.

He froze at the sight of a darkened figure sitting at their table, his heart leaping into his throat. Remembering his Dad's training, Dean's hand went to the butterfly knife in his pocket, even as he backed towards Sammy's bedroom. He would wake Sam with a hand over his mouth and they would climb out the window-

"It's just me, Dean," said a weary voice.

"Dad?" Dean whispered. The light flicked on, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief to see that it _was_ his father. "You're back early."

"Lead was a bust," he grunted.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean offered. He wanted to go in and squeeze his Dad's hand to let him know that everything was alright, but it only worked on Sammy because he didn't know the truth. For Dad, nothing would be alright until the fire monster was dead, and maybe nothing even then.

"Me too, son," Dad said heavily. "I really hoped that, this time…" He trailed off and shook his head, reaching for his glass.

Dean glanced from the cup, to the half-empty bottle next to it.

His father gulped down the drink, settling the glass back down with a _chink_ that Dean feared would wake Sam. Dad reached for the bottle, glanced at him, and then sighed. He put the glass in the sink and the bottle in a high cupboard.

"Bedtime, then, Dean. For both of us."

"Yes, sir," Dean said quietly.

ooOOoo

"Daddy said he'd be home early tonight," Sam whined. "He said he'd bring pizza."

Dean spooned the Spaghetti-Os from the pan into his brother's bowl. "Blow on it; it's hot."

Sam shoved the bowl away. "I want pizza!"

Dean lifted the bowl and blew on the contents gently, watching the steam waft away. "Dad will make it up to us another night."

The pouty lip made another appearance. "He promised."

"His work is important, Sammy, you know that. If he isn't home by now there's a good reason."

"Yeah." Sammy looked disappointed, but he reached out resignedly for his bowl.

Dean moved to wash the pan up in the sink.

"Where's yours?" Sam asked around a mouthful of Spaghetti-Os.

They were supposed to have pizza tonight, and Dad was supposed to bring home some more groceries. They were running low.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

He made sure Sammy finished his meal, washed up and was in bed on time. Then Dean sat up, waiting. Worrying.

The sound of keys roused him from a light doze at two in the morning. Dean hurried to open the door.

"Dad!"

His father stumbled through the doorway.

Dean lurched back in alarm, only barely managing to avoid being knocked over by his dad's unsteady gait. "Dad, are you hurt?"

"N…no…" he slurred.

Dean noticed the brown paper bag in his hand and took it from him before he could drop it, hoping to find the promised groceries.

Bottles filled with amber liquid clinked and winked at him in the light.

Dean could smell it, then; the stench of alcohol.

"You went to a bar."

Clumsily, his dad reached out to tousle his hair, practically cuffing him. "Bad day, kiddo. Freakin' ghost looked just like her."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah – yeah, Dean, just… just gotta… ungh, sleep… sleep it off." He collapsed in a heap.

Dean shook him, trying to wake him up, but nothing would rouse the man. So, with a great deal of effort, Dean tugged and pulled his dad's dead weight into the lounge room. He was too heavy to lift onto the sofa, but Dean laid the sofa cushions out on the floor and rolled his father onto them, then covered him with a spare blanket.

Late the next morning, John woke to a tall glass of water and a bottle of pain killers set on a tray nearby, with the smell of coffee and eggs drifting in from the kitchen.

ooOOoo 

Dad had kept to himself for most of the evening. He had ordered Dean to keep his brother amused and out of his hair while he was locked away in the study, pouring over musty old books and scribbling in his journal.

"It's _useless!"_ Dad roared.

Dean shot a worried glance at Sammy's sleeping form and quickly scurried out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and shoving a spare pillow against the crack to sound-proof the room as much as he could.

He entered the study cautiously. "Dad, Sammy's asleep…"

"Well at least _something_ is going right!"

Dean took in the open bottle of Tequila on the desk. No glass, which meant he was swigging from the bottle directly. That was never a good sign. "What's wrong, Dad?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong?_ You're mother is DEAD, and the thing that killed her is _still alive._ That monster is roaming about, free as a bird, foiling me at every turn, _mocking me_. That's what's freakin' wrong!"

"You'll find it, Dad. I know you will."

"I'm _trying_, Dean. I've been trying for 4 freakin' years, and I've got _nothing._ I don't even know what the hell it _is!"_

Dean glanced back down the hall. "Dad, please, keep your voice down-"

"Don't you dare try to give me orders, boy!"

"Sorry, it's just, Sam-"

"_Enough!"_ With one violent sweep of his hands, everything on his desk crashed to the floor in a mess of scattered paper and shattered glass.

Dean flinched.

The loud noise seemed to startle Dad out of his drunken haze, and it was as though he was seeing his son for the first time.

"Dean," he gasped, eyes wide with shock and apology. "I-"

"I have to go check on Sam," Dean said. He fled the room, leaving his dad staring after him.

ooOOoo

Dean was methodical.

He searched through the entire house, finding all the hidden drawers and high cupboards. He removed every stash of alcohol he found, and poured every last drop of the offending liquid down the toilet before throwing the empty bottles in next-door's bin.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. If there was no alcohol, Dad couldn't get drunk. And if he wasn't drunk, he wasn't a danger to Sammy.

Dean didn't take into account the possibility of his father going to a bar before he came home.

He had put himself to bed, but tossed and turned restlessly, stomach filled with nervous butterflies.

He heard his dad come home. He pretended to be asleep.

He heard his dad stumbling around, knocking into things. He hoped the noise wouldn't wake Sammy.

He heard the sound of cupboard doors opening, and slamming shut. He swallowed, and pulled the covers more tightly around himself.

He heard muttered curses.

He heard unsteady footsteps thump through the house.

He heard drawers being pulled open, and shoved closed with excessive force.

He heard the sound of a search growing more and more frantic, and then there was a sudden absence of sound.

"_Dean,_" his father hissed.

His bedroom door creaked open slowly, ominously. Dean tried not to look, but he could feel the looming presence of his father in the doorway. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping desperately that his father would think he was asleep.

"Dean Winchester, get up this _instant," _Dad snarled. It was the tone of an angry Marine, and Dean obeyed instinctively, scrambling to stand at attention.

Cold eyes glared down at him. "What did you do?"

"N-nothing, sir," Dean squeaked.

"_Don't_ lie to me, boy." A vein on his temple was pulsing dangerously, even as his voice remained low, deadly calm. "Just tell me where my liquor is."

"I can't."

His father took a step closer. "Tell me. _Now._ Or you will not like the consequences."

It was an order, and Dean was trained to respond like a soldier. His whole body trembled, but the words escaped his lips without his consent. "It's gone, sir. I drained it."

Fury, white hot, blazed in his eyes. "You did _what?"_

There was nothing to save him now, so Dean went full steam ahead. "I didn't want you drinking anymore."

"You little _bastard_," Dad growled. "You had no right! How dare you!"

"Well, someone had to be the adult here!" Dean snapped. "You're supposed to be our Dad! You have two kids to look after and a monster to find. You shouldn't be drinking, it's irresponsible! You-"

The fist came out of nowhere, cracking across Dean's cheekbone. He hit the ground hard and lay there for a moment, face pressed into the carpet, too stunned to move.

Dad had hit him.

Dad had actually hit him.

What if he started in on Sammy, next?

Dean's hand flung out to the side, fingers scrambling under his bed until they closed around smooth wood.

A large hand grabbed his shirt and dragged him up. Furious eyes bored into him. "You little shi-"

Dean swung hard and fast. The baseball bat slammed into his father's skull, dropping him like a stone.

Dean crawled out from beneath him, and checked that he was unconscious. Then he checked that he had a pulse, and was still breathing.

He didn't hesitate for a moment longer.

Well trained in quick packing, Dean threw all his clothes and his few other belongings into his rucksack. When he burst into Sammy's room, it was to find his brother already awake, curled up in a terrified ball in the corner.

"Dean!" He was on the verge of sobs.

"We gotta go, right now," Dean said urgently. He threw all of Sam's things into his backpack.

"Why?"

"Because-" Dean saw how scared Sammy was, and changed tactic. He drew on a bright grin. "We're going on an adventure!"

"But… Dad was yelling."

"No, no, Dad is away on a business trip, remember? That was just the- uh- TV."

Sammy frowned. "Thought it was broken."

"It started working again. Yeah. Some stupid action movie came on all of a sudden. Scared me, too."

"Why do you have a boo-boo on your face?"

Dean touched his fingers lightly to his cheek. It was hot and painful where his father had struck him, and he was sure it would blossom into a spectacular bruise.

"I tripped 'cause I was so excited to leave on our adventure."

"But-"

They didn't have time for this. Dad could wake up any moment. "Come, on, Sammy, remember all those books about heroes going on adventures? Well this time, _you_ get to be the hero."

Hazel eyes brightened with excitement. "Really?"

"Yeah! It was- Dad's idea. He knows how much you love those books, so we planned this little adventure for you. Cool huh?"

"Yeah!"

"We get to leave in the dead of night, sneak across the border and hitchhike across the treacherous wild until we make it to the castle."

"Oooh," Sam said. "Where's the castle?"

"I'll tell you on the way." Dean yanked open the window, and beckoned Sammy through it. "After you, Sir Knight."

Sammy giggled.

ooOOoo

Dean was about ready to collapse when they finally made it to the front porch. He wobbled for a second, but carefully set Sammy down before he could fall over and squash him.

"We made it!" Sammy scrambled up the steps and cheerfully pounded on the door.

The door opened to reveal a grouchy man in a baseball cap, whose expression swiftly changed from irritation to shock at the sight of the two small boys standing on his doorstep. "What the hell-"

"King Bobby!" Sam greeted with a huge, beaming smile. Before the old hunter could say anything, Sam barrelled into him, throwing his arms around Bobby's legs. "We went on a venture and we made it to your castle and Dean was my nodal steeb, and it was so much fun, but I'm tired and hungry and where's Dad, is he coming soon?"

Abruptly, Bobby emptied a flask of water over Sam's head.

"Hey, I'm not stinky!" Sam protested.

A pot of salt followed.

"Snow? Bobby? Ew, ick, that tastes yucky!"

When Dean approached he received the same treatment. "It's us, Uncle Bobby," he said, wiping salty water away from his eyes.

"Where the hell have you boys been?"

Instead of answering right away, Dean said, "Sam, go inside and dry off."

Sam scurried away to do as he was told.

Bobby prodded Dean's chest with a stern finger. "You've got some explaining to do, boy. Your father has been worried sick about you two; he's called every contact he has three times and torn up half of America looking for you. There had better be a damn good explanation for you taking off like that."

"There is," Dean said. He was exhausted, but he drew himself up to his full height and adopted an expression that showed he meant serious business. "But I'm not going to tell you. It is between my Dad and me."

"Dean-"

"You can call him and tell him we're here." He knew Bobby would anyway. "But when he comes, he speaks to me before he sees Sam. Got it?"

The adult looked at him strangely, as though he couldn't quite believe how he was being spoken to by a kid. But Dean wasn't a kid. He hadn't been for a long time.

"Good. You can go ahead and call him now. If you want me, I'll be raiding your fridge." Dean gave a cheeky grin, and scampered into the house, calling over his shoulder, "I hope you've got pie!"

ooOOoo

Dean heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine pull up in Bobby's car yard.

He glanced to Sam, who was happily absorbed in the cartoons showing on the T.V.

"Stay here, Sammy. I'll be right back."

Sammy just nodded, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Your dad-" Bobby began.

"I know. Unless I come back through that door first, don't let him in. And don't let him anywhere near Sammy, understand?"

Bobby frowned, but nodded, and Dean knew he was a man of his word.

Steeling himself, Dean slipped out the front door and closed it behind him.

It was all he could do to stop himself from running back into the safety of the house when he saw his father slowly get out of the car. There was no hint of drunkenness to his movements, he was relieved to notice; just hesitation, and guilt. He approached, one step at a time, but stopped a few feet away.

"Dean," he said softly.

Dean folded his arms. "John."

His father winced, and looked down at the ground. "I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean was not ready to offer forgiveness. "I thought you would be, once you sobered up."

"I didn't meant to hurt you, son."

"You were building up to it for a while. Coming home drunk, throwing things. I saw it coming; you should have, too."

"I never thought I could-"

"You're an angry, violent drunk, Dad," Dean said bluntly. "After all the bar fights you've gotten into, you should already know that. It's one thing to get drunk while you're out. But you should never have brought it home."

"I know," he whispered.

"I drained all your alcohol because it shouldn't have been in the house, and I stand by that decision, whether you think I had the 'right' or not."

"No, you did the right thing, I just-"

"Don't make excuses," Dean warned.

His shoulders slumped. "There are no excuses. I'm sorry for hitting you, Dean. It never should have happened."

Dean's fingers went to the fading bruise on his cheek. "I don't care about that. I care about Sammy."

Dad's eyes flashed up. "Sam- is he-?"

"He's fine. You told me to protect him, and I have. Even from you."

His words seemed to physically wound the man."Dean, I'm sorry. I'm so… so sorry."

Tears glistened in the eyes of the tough Marine. John sounded so dejected, so genuinely grieved by what he had done, that Dean felt his defences crumbling.

"I know you are," he said softly. He knew why his father drank. He knew that the pain of losing their mother was sometimes more than he could bear, and when the hunting could not distract him the grief and frustration were nearly enough to tear him apart. He knew that the alcohol was supposed to numb him and bring some small measure of relief. But it had gone too far, and Dean would not allow his brother to be in danger from their own father. "I ran because I thought it would knock some sense into you."

"It did." John rubbed his head, ruefully. "The bat helped, too."

Dean smirked, just a little.

"I need you to know that I haven't touched a drop of alcohol since that night," his father said. "And I don't intend to."

"I don't expect you to stop altogether." Dean did not want his father to make a promise he couldn't keep. "But if we're going to come home with you, then there will be no more spirits in the house. A couple of beers in the fridge, _at most._"

John nodded. "That's fair. More than fair."

"And Dad… if you ever, _ever_, come home drunk again, or hit either one of us, I will take Sam and go somewhere that you will never find us."

John swallowed, and Dean could see in his eyes that his father believed him. If nothing else, this experience had showed him how easily Dean could secret Sam away if he needed to. They had made it across three states, unharmed and undetected, and only the deliberate choice to go to a fellow hunter had allowed their dad to find them.

"Understood, son. I give you my word, it will never happen again."

"Good." Dean let himself relax, marginally. "Then I forgive you, Dad."

His father's face softened. "You're a good man, Dean Winchester. I hope to be half the man you are, someday."

"I'm being serious," Dean objected.

Tentatively, his dad moved forward and wrapped Dean in a gentle hug, before withdrawing to hold him at arm's length and look him in the eyes. "I am, too. Thank you, son, for showing me the error of my ways. I swear I will not let you down."

ooOOoo

_2006_

"And he didn't," Dean said. "Let me down, I mean. Sure, every so often he still went out and got drunk, but he always stayed away from us until he was sober again, just like he promised. And even when the fights between you two got bad, he never ever hit you."

"Dean…" Sam's mind was reeling from the overload of revelations that he had never expected to have about his family. He always assumed that Dean was blind to their father's faults, and he had never imagined that Dean was capable of standing up to him in such a blatant manner. But as an _eight_-year-old, Dean had confronted their father about his drinking problem and given him an _ultimatum_ to kick the habit or lose his sons. Sam couldn't believe that Dad had actually hit Dean, or that Dean had forgiven him so easily. He only barely remembered their 'adventure', but he could scarcely believe they had made it to Bobby's place alive and in one piece.

But he had absolutely no trouble believing that Dean had done it, all of it, to protect him. Deep down he knew that he had always been safe with Dean at his side. Dean would never let anything happen to him.

And suddenly, he wasn't so scared about the demon that was stalking him anymore.

Everything would be alright.

Dean was watching over him.

ooOOoo

The End


End file.
